Christmas, for lack of a more creative title : )

Christmas day, I attempted to make an American, Southern traditional breakfast, biscuits and gravy. We have all of the ingredients, except for sausage. The grocery store across the street sells beef sausage, lean and… beefy tasting. My first taste made me shudder (haha). Thank goodness Meg’s biscuits and Ash’s pancakes were yummy.

On the ground floor of my apartment building is a church that met on Christmas in the court area downstairs. Their chatting was so loud it reached the 11th floor and caused me to look out the window. About that time the noon call to prayer echoed, unusually loud because of the decrease in traffic.

After exchanging gifts we took a walk on the corniche. I love that it was 60 degrees warm and that we saw the snow-capped Mount Lebanon as we piddled around by the Med, picking up sea glass and being hypnotized by the movement of the waves. As usual the AUB beach was filled full of shirtless old men, some sunning, some playing tennis and some snorkeling.

I’m glad Christmas for me is more than just a day, as opposed to the many I passed on the corniche who were simply enjoying the weather.

Since November my roommates and I practiced Advent. Every Sunday leading up to Christmas we read the story and prophecies about the coming of Jesus. Jesus the God-man humbled Himself by taking on the likeness of men. This Christmas I have been removed from diversions, namely, the tendency to substitute time with my family for dwelling in God’s presence. This has made Christmas precious.

My empathetic self is affected by Mary, who was pure and faithful in spite of the seeming scandal of her situation. My favorite part: “Mary was treasuring up all these things in her heart and meditating on them” (Luke 2:19). She was treasuring her journey to that point, the very fact that she, a regular young woman was chosen by God to carry the Messiah of the world, and she was treasuring Jesus. If I was Mary I would not have words.

Throughout this month I’ve been digesting what it looks like to dwell in God’s presence. Sometimes I am enthralled with who God is. The story in John 12 of Mary (different one) is taking root in my heart. “Then Mary took a pound of fragrant oil-pure and expensive nard-anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped His feet with her hair. So the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil.”

She knew Jesus was her redeemer, she knew that He was God, she did the only thing she could do, her heart bowed before Him and she gave Him her very best. I pray that my heart will bow as hers, that it will be my gift to God, the best thing I can give. I pray that my heart of adoration will be a pocket of glory that radiates like Mary’s rich, fragrant oil.

Ayd LMilad Majeed min Beirut!

Something that delights my heart: The smallest room in our apartment is our kitchen, it’s more lacking counter space than anything. Somehow we’ve managed to fit 5 of us inside, all cooking at the same time. We’re having roommate Christmas today, running late, it’s almost 2. Ashley is making chocolate mousse (Bailey’s and all), Lily wings, Arum, rocca salad with chicken and avacodo and me, potatoes drowned in olive oil and old bay.

just because

There is an area across the street from my apartment building that I’ve tried to ignore. It’s a restaurant that sells delicious, fresh orange juice, but it’s also one of those places with a congregation of staring men, young and old, at all times of the day. In September one of the young men barked at Ash and me… . I’ve been livid ever since, my blood boils when I walk past.

Today it was inevitable that Meg and I walk past. Since there is no doubt that it is now the rainy season, our street floods on the right side, the opposite side of the congregation. I was carrying my umbrella, $3.00 from TJ Mac’s, and the strength of the wind bent it backwards, right in front of the sitting men. One of them jumped up, grabbed my umbrella and like magic, repaired it instantly and handed it back. I was thrilled, said “thank you very much,” and continued. I now realize it is time to stop holding anger against the congregation because of the one guy. Truly I confess that I should have forgiven them a long time ago, but haven’t wanted to until today.

I am now sitting in the famous Café Younes, the best coffee shop in Beirut and authentically Lebanese. All expatriates hang out here. On a normal day the ratio of foreigners to Lebanese is… I would guess, 4 to 1. I come here some weekends to listen to good worship music and absolutely space out. Today the little space is filled to capacity, which makes it so cozy. I didn’t have a place to plug in my lappy so one of the employees brought me and extension cord, bent over backwards to plug it in and continues to risk his life and pride by walking over it with trays of coffee and muffins. Otherwise you wouldn’t have received this delightful blog.